


Served Right

by quicksparrows



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, it's always reaper suffering hour, reaper suffering hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: Being with her seemed like a natural second to being with him; he didn't really expect her to have a similar line of thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A Jack/Gabriel fic in the skin of an Angela/Gabriel fic. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

.

 

 

The first fireworks soar and explode, whistling in a way that makes at least half of the people in the room tense up. Gabriel feels their hesitation and then their elation at the brilliant colors in the sky. There's a bit of chatter, laughter, an ooh and aah. _The war is over; let there be merriment._

He sees Jack in the middle of a crowd, all of them talking loudly and effusively, but Gabriel doesn't hear what. They're all UN officials, the same people he once caroused with. But what does it matter, now? The celebrations from the end of the war are subsiding, and it's no longer about the leader of Overwatch. The holidays are for everyone.

He spies the back of Angela's blonde head amongst the people, but she seems alone, too. Her dress is backless, low — he can see the ridge of her spine, the permanent welts on her shoulder blades from so many hours in Valkyrie. He likes that she wears her scars. He thinks they're a lot alike that way, and just then, she turns to look at him.

From across the ballroom, she raises her champagne flute in cheers and smiles at him. The apples of her cheeks are pink.

He raises his glass in turn, rooted to the spot. When she moves to him, she immediately moves in for a hug. He gets one arm around her, casually, but she drapes herself from his neck and kisses his cheek and laughs. She's a touch drunk. His gaze unwittingly roves over Jack again before moving to her.

"Happy New Year!" she says.

But he's never happy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She's golden, perched on his lap.

"Be gentle," she murmurs, lips _almost_ against his, but she flirts with the distance. 

He's not sure if he's ever been gentle in his life, but he peels her leggings from her body just the same and it comes off of her like a second skin. She shucks off her shirt. He has never seen her naked before; he didn't imagine her breasts so soft and supple. He's used to hard muscle, and the closest thing she has to that is bone. Her fingers –– surgeon's fingers –– are nimble on his fly. 

"Are you...?" he asks, trailing off as he pets her down. 

"No," she says, and she laughs. "No, no. I just like it that way." 

She shifts in his lap to straddle his thighs; the motion is slow, deliberate, and he wants to raise the lights in his hotel room, but he worries she might just fly away if he's distracted for even a moment. He wants to kiss her, but she sits upright, and they're just not close like that. He hasn't kissed anyone since he and Jack were close, anyway.

"Gentle, then," he rumbles at her.

But he's never gentle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He's furious. Yelling.

"I wouldn't give a damn if it was anyone but him," he says. " _Anyone!_ "

"It was one time," she says. There's the slightest bit of exasperation there. One time? Gabriel doubts it –– he bets she's been fucking him for a while, maybe even since before he and Jack–– well. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything."

"I _know that_ , but..." he says, and he wants to shoot himself in the face for hesitating. _Weak. Weak!_ He bites down on his bitterness, harnesses it. "You chose him over me!"

Angela's expression is briefly surprised. He doesn't like the way her face looks these days; it's still her but the little black studs at the corners of her jaw suggest what's underneath is something else entirely.

"Gabriel," she says, pragmatic as always. She lays a hand on his forearm and he brushes her off, furious. She doesn't try again. "I did not choose _anyone._ It was a party, and I was a little drunk, and maybe you were lonely, but that's all it was. And Jack and I, that… well, that is none of your business."

She waves a hand, dismissively. He realizes, suddenly, that _one time_ wasn't her talking about Jack. She was talking about _him._

But he can't admit he thought wrong. He can't admit that.

"That's not how it _works_ ," he spits. "You can't be _impartial_ , not when he thinks you chose him. He's probably strutting around, it's just one more thing to lord over me –– fucking Jack Morrison and his boy scout shit, he gets absolutely everything––"

" _Well,_ at least I know this isn't about me," Angela says, a little sharper. "This is about Jack."

She's right, but he hadn't even wanted to _consider_ it.

"NO," he snaps at her, right in her face, and she leans back on her heels but she doesn't move away. "It _is_ about you. You don't get to pretend you didn't choose him. You don't get to pretend that!"

Angela shakes her head.

"I have not seen Jack in weeks, Gabriel, not since we were sanctioned," she says. "But even if I had — what cause do you have to treat me this way?"

His heart falls, but it serves him right, he thinks. It serves him right to have ever given any of these lazy, shortcut-taking scrubs time, or a chance. Serves him right for having ever held any affection for them. _Serves him right for giving a shit._ Fuck them, fuck them, for thinking of him as a push-over, for lording their lofty bullshit over him, for being perfect representations of everything _wrong_ with their kind, for their arrogance, for their––

" _Gabriel_ ," Angela says. "I wish it could have worked between us –– between any of us! –– but you need _help,_ my dear friend."

She breathes in, deeply, and she reaches a hand to him. He resists the urge to throw her into a wall and break all her fragile bones, and god, she looks so soft.

But Gabriel turns away, and he leaves.

Above all else, he'll never let them pity him.


End file.
